I don’t know what the problem is, but here in north central Oklahoma, I never found a place to fit in. I always felt like an outsider. Always felt like the one who was trying too hard. When we first moved here, eleven years ago, we fell in with a family or two that seemed like they were sympatico with us and that we could be besties.

We weren’t.

It was the first in a long string of disappointments. People who didn’t need you. They liked you well enough, sure, but they had enough friends of their own. You were an afterthought, if anything. Somebody who might be fun, or maybe not, who knows? Who cared? Nobody, that’s who. People here had known one another for decades, and they had no room for anyone else in their very tight and constricting circles.

I’m not sure that the Houston area will be any better. It’s hard to say. You carry your issues with you wherever you go, that much is certain, so maybe it won’t be. But I’m going with a willing heart, and one that believes that if you are honest, other hearts will follow, if they are brave and true and willing to lay it all on the line.

So here’s to the crazy ones. The ones that don’t fit in. Here’s to us. Don’t stop trying. Don’t give up. People are out there who will appreciate your specific talents. Maybe it’s just a talent for calling out bullshit, or calling a spade a spade, or getting jiggy with it on a Friday night when nobody else is around. You’re awesome. You matter. You feel alone, but you’re not. Keep plugging away. You’ll make it.

I’ll make it. Somehow, someday. I will. I’ll bet my life on it. The end. Good bye, Bartlesville. You are weird and cliquey, and I’m the first, and maybe the last, to say it. You’re awesome, but not THAT awesome. Nobody is. Really.

Cheesy fries deserve their own place in the awesomeness category. I wish we were closer in proximity, because I know we would be closer in the heart-thingy too, in that case. Until then, keep up the weirdness, and I will too.